I write books. The rest is mostly wandering around, following my curiosity, and getting distracted.

I have always wanted to know why.

Why do we believe the things we believe? Why does one person experience something as devastating while another barely notices? Why do we keep doing things that make us miserable? Why can a fictional character sometimes explain our own feelings better than we can? And why, despite knowing perfectly well how these relationships usually turn out, do I remain deeply invested in people falling in love?

I am romantic but skeptical. Spiritual and analytical. I have an MBA and years of training in healing arts. I love people deeply and also need everyone to go away occasionally so I can hear myself think.

I can spend days perfectly happy at home with my books and computer. And then, without warning, I need an adventure immediately.

Mostly, I’m interested in what makes us tick. I’m fascinated by people and their stories, cultures and places, health and emotions, ancient history, spirituality, weird science, quantum physics, mystical experiences, and just about anything that makes me say:

Wait. What?

Then I need to know more.

Stories are how I make sense of things.

I write because it helps me understand what I think. Sometimes it helps me understand what I feel. And sometimes I don’t understand either one until I encounter a character—mine or someone else’s—going through something that suddenly gives me language for my own experience.

Stories let us borrow someone else’s perspective for a while. They’ve made me more empathetic toward people whose lives look nothing like mine. They’ve also helped me have more grace for myself.

Maybe that’s why I’m always looking for the story behind things. The more I understand how someone got here, the harder it becomes to reduce them to whatever I can see in front of me.

And apparently novels are one of the ways I investigate all of this. I’m not entirely sure I chose that part. But I started writing them, I couldn’t stop.

Somewhere along the way, I started collecting experiences.

I wanted to travel from the time I was ten. When my kids grew up and left home, I decided it was finally time. Mexico happened to be close enough to the same time zone as my old life to make it a practical place to begin.

So I started there.

I never left.

I found a home. I found love. And I discovered that the life I’d spent years imagining didn’t look quite like I thought it would. It was better in some ways. Harder in others. And much, much less scheduled.

I used to have every second of my day planned.

Now I sometimes forget what day it is.

Along the way, I’ve traveled through Scotland, Cyprus, and Egypt and road-tripped through much of Mexico and parts of the United States. I’ve helped baby sea turtles reach the ocean and floated through bioluminescent water. I’ve watched the sun set twice in the same day.

I’ve stood on a dried-up lakebed in Sinaloa, Mexico, with absolutely no one around and watched the moon completely cover the sun. I’ve been in a boat surrounded by hundreds of dolphins. I’ve been trapped on a dirt road by a goat traffic jam. And I’ve seen a few things in the sky I still can’t explain.

I would like more of all of it.

Maybe not the goat traffic jam.

For anyone keeping track…

My actual résumé makes about as much sense as the rest of this page.

I’ve been a school counselor, teacher, children’s ministry assistant, inner-healing director, Starbucks store manager, pizza delivery driver, house flipper, shoe salesperson, and CEO.

I formally studied Behavioral Science and Organizational Management. Informally, I’ve spent years studying writing craft, healing, Human Design, astrology, spirituality, psychology, and whatever subject currently has me opening seventeen browser tabs when I was supposed to be doing something else.

Some of what I once believed, I don’t believe anymore. I don’t consider that wasted time. Everything I’ve studied, believed, questioned, dismantled, experienced, gotten wrong, and understood differently later has become part of how I see the world now.

I reserve the right to keep changing my mind.

These days…

I’m less interested in building a life that looks impressive from the outside. I’m more interested in the things that make me feel alive. Things I enjoy. Things that make me curious. People I love. Places I haven’t seen. Questions I haven’t answered. Stories I haven’t written.

And anything that still has the ability to stop me in my tracks and fill me with awe.

There is an enormous amount of world left to see.

I’m curious what happens next.

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